


Cheat; Steal; Lie; Torture

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Double Drabble, Drabble, Drabble Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-13
Updated: 2005-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:04:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four loosely interconnected Methos drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drabble: Cheat

Methos wasn't the sort who'd bring a knife to a gunfight. Hell, he wouldn't even bring a knife to a knifefight. Not these days, not when there were so many other ways of winning.

Some called that cheating. Methos called it prudence. Joe couldn't be so naive as to believe that anyone could survive even a hundred years playing by the rules.

Methos remembered barbarism, back when it was still stylish. No, Methos' adopted father and teacher would have disowned him had he ever found out that Methos hadn't taken every advantage presented to him.

It wasn't the Immortal way.


	2. Drabble: Steal

The sword wasn't his. Methos had found it buried in the sand back when he and Kronos still rode alone. Kronos had not wanted it, so Methos had made room for it on his horse.

Later, a hundred years afterwards, Methos had peered over the inscriptions on the handle, had translated them out loud. And he had laughed.

An incantation that the sword would find its owner. A promise that it could never be stolen.

Methos laughed, but there was no humor. He knew the grip of it, every tilt and thrust. He had stolen his own childhood practice sword.


	3. Drabble: Lie

Methos knew what death was like. He had ridden beside him, had felt the icy wisp of that black cloak against his hands. It turned the blood on his hands to a bitter brown and had chilled the flesh off of his slaves.

Kronos could not see Death, nor could Caspian or Silas. But Methos knew. He knew his own skeleton because he had seen it.

Of the horsemen, only Death survived in the legends. Byron never knew why his teacher had kept a woodcut of the Grim Reaper with him at all times.

It was such a good lie.


	4. Double Drabble: Torture

The stories lied. The Gathering, the eternal struggle of their race, came down to a fight between brothers. Methos held the Watchers and Kronos had his own party of murderous Immortals.

The head of Methos was the Prize, but no one wanted the Prize. Kronos simply wanted his brother back in his bed. Methos was willing to discuss it.

The peace offering Kronos sent was a blonde pre-Immortal, young, thin, and fair. He had fallen to his knees inside Watcher headquarters and the message he bore had make Methos blanch, then redden.

_Happy birthday, brother. Enjoy the gift._

How long had it been since the last? Methos could not remember. But his brother knew him too well. Kronos always had.

Methos grabbed the child, pulled him into his room with only a _to see what he knows_ to his second-in-command, and had gagged the child immediately.

No one needed to hear this. Kronos had liked it when Methos used knives the first time, but he couldn't take that risk. Methos used his hands.

How many heads had they taken like this? Methos couldn't remember. But he would send this child's head back to his brother and return the message. Parley.


End file.
